


Tertiary

by VagrantWriter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arya is a blunt instrument, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort/Angst, Consensual Sex, Everyone is intersex, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intersex, Kidnapping, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Ramsay is his own warning, Theon and his harem of Starks, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9315155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagrantWriter/pseuds/VagrantWriter
Summary: Betas don't bond. Betas don't breed. Betas don't inherit castles or carry on family lines or serveanypurpose really.But may the Old Gods and New help you if you lay a hand on the Starks' Beta.





	1. 1.1: Robb

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I can explain this one...
> 
> During my last round of reader requests, I did an a/b/o fic. I had a lot of fun with it (you may call it tropey nonsense, but I call it _fantastic_ tropey nonsense), and since I got several more a/b/o prompts after I'd closed requests, I decided to try a slightly longer one. So this is for everyone who requested. Sorry there's no omega!Theon, but I wanted to explore how betas fit into these a/b/o 'verses.
> 
> Pairings and tags will be updated as I post. Please mind them, though nothing terribly graphic happens on-screen.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Simple.” Robb pointed to the place on the map that marked the Dreadfort’s gate. “We ride up and demand they return Theon. I assume a whole line of our warriors here—ʺ He indicated with his index finger. “—will be enough to convince them.”

“Oh, aye.” Jory Cassel nodded enthusiastically. “No way they’ll risk a siege over one little Beta.”

Robb’s eyes snapped up at the man across the table. “Watch yourself.”

Jory caught his mistake. “Begging pardon, my Lord, I just meant that Roose Bolton’s too smart a man to call Winterfell’s bluff over a single… _person_.”

“Wars have been fought over single people,” Dacey Mormont noted.

What was left unsaid: _Omegas, maybe, perhaps even Alphas if the line of succession was brought into question. But not Betas_. If anyone was thinking it, no one was foolish enough to voice it.

Robb snorted. “I hope you’re right, Jory,” he said. “From all accounts, Roose Bolton is a reasonable man. Unfortunately, _he’s_ not the one holding Theon.”

Images flashed through his mind. Theon’s horse returning, riderless, to Winterfell. A body found in the woods. A heart-stopping moment where he’d thought the worst. But then, no, not Theon’s body. Not a Beta at all, but an Omega woman. Signs of a struggle not far from the scene, boots and horses’ hooves, and Theon’s scent disappearing into the trees.

Weeks of investigation had turned up a name, a culprit: Ramsay Snow.

Robb gripped the table as another wave of anger crashed over him. Theon was not his mate. Would never be his mate. And yet Robb’s animal instincts didn’t seem to care. He wanted to tear the Bastard of Bolton’s throat out as surely as if he’d taken his bondmate. He wanted to flip the table and scatter the maps because every second spent thinking was another second where Theon was…

Where Theon was…

 

* * *

  **ROBB**

* * *

 

Robb groaned and rolled over. He was sore and…satisfied. Which was unusual. He only ever woke up with a phantom ache in his loins after his rut had passed.

He opened his eyes to the blurry image of a naked body slipping on a pair of breeches. He blinked and the blurriness passed, and now he could make out Theon. The bruises on his arms and hips. The ring of bite marks around his neck. The grimace of pain on his face as he slid his pants first onto one leg and then the other.

Sometimes rut was like drinking too much alcohol. It made things hazy and hard to remember. Hard, but not impossible.

Robb remembered.

He bolted upright. “Gods, I’m sorry!”

Theon spun around, startled.

Robb clutched the blankets to himself. He could feel the evidence of their…joining last night. On the mattress, on the sheets. Even on himself. He burned with shame and didn’t even know how to begin apologizing appropriately.

Theon’s startled look melted into a smile. “Sorry, I had planned to be dressed and gone before you woke up.”

“Did I—?” Robb started to throw back the covers, then stopped. He could feel, but he didn’t want to see. What if there was blood? What if he’d…? “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Do I need to send for a maester?”

“No, I’m fine.” He began to lace up his breeches. “A bit sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Gods,” Robb repeated. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Theon. I didn’t mean…” He felt tears prickling in his eyes. He looked at the bite marks—mating marks—and all he could think was how lucky it was that Theon was “only” a Beta. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Make it up to me?” Theon scoffed and pulled the laces tight then reached for his undershirt. He stopped when a tear did break loose from Robb’s eye. His smirk evaporated in an instant. Robb made to brush the tear away, but Theon had seen and hurried to his side, brushing it away for him. “Shh, shh,” he shushed.

Robb smacked his hand away. He couldn’t stand it, Theon looking at him with so much sympathy when he’d…

“I’m sorry,” he said miserably. “Gods, if you’d been an Omega…” He shook his head. Didn’t even want to consider that. That it might have been some other unfortunate who’d crossed his path while he’d been in rut. “I mean, it doesn’t excuse what happened, but…”

“It’s alright.” Theon sat on the end of the bed. “It’s alright, Robb, it really is. I’ll keep my neck covered for a few days. No one will know. We don’t have to talk about this ever again.”

“But I…” Robb bit back more tears. Alphas didn’t cry, dammit. “I _forced_ you.”

Theon’s jaw dropped open. “Is that…? You don’t remember what happened last night?”

“I remember that the rut came on very suddenly.” There were times when Robb would kill to be an Omega. To have a regular cycle. To know when it was coming. But no. The overwhelming urge to fuck was like thunder out of a clear blue sky. Like the middle of a feast or during his lessons or even getting a lecture from his mother. Or practicing his archery with his best friend. Anything could have set it off. A nearby Omega in heat or pre-heat. An overly aggressive Alpha. A change in the weather. Robb didn’t even know. All he knew was that one minute he was talking and laughing casually with Theon in the courtyard, and the next he was sweating and trembling with energy, the need to kill or fuck, his vision began tunneling…

“Yeah, it was sudden,” Theon agreed. “You were a mess. Said you needed to get to your room right away. Kept saying it, over and over. ‘Need to get to my room, lock the door. I’m not safe. I’m losing control.’ So,” he shrugged, “I took you back to your room.”

“And I repaid you for the kindness,” Robb muttered.

Theon laid a hand on Robb’s knee, giving it a firm squeeze through the blanket. “I _offered_ , Robb.”

He looked up. “You did?”

“I made you the same offer I made Jon.”

“Jon? What’s Jon…?” He blinked at the realization. “You’ve mated with Jon?”

“I’ve fucked him. I can’t _mate_ with anyone.”

Right. Because of the whole… Robb blushed in embarrassment. It was just so foreign to him. Having sex with both Alphas _and_ Omegas. It seemed so…wrong. Like cheating.

“I offered,” Theon repeated. “You kept saying, ‘I can’t, I don’t want to hurt you.’ That was the big thing. You were so convinced you were going to lose control and hurt me. Like I’ve never fucked an Alpha in rut before. No offense meant, but this—” He ran his fingers along the bite marks. “—this is gentle lovemaking compared to some Alphas I’ve been with.”

“Gods,” Robb swore.

“I _like_ it.” Theon smiled and crawled onto the bed. He took Robb’s slack hand. Robb resisted, but Theon was insistent, guiding it to his neck. A strong part of Robb _wanted_ to feel the marks, _wanted_ to run his fingers over his handiwork. So, he relented, tracing the small indents on Theon’s throat. “I like this,” Theon purred. “I like being loved sore. Can’t get enough of it. I don’t even know what I’d do if I were an Alpha or Omega, stuck to fucking only when my loins told me to.”

Robb stared in awe. Theon looked like he was going into heat, the way he threw his head back to bare his neck. No pheromones. No cycles. In that instant, Robb understood what it meant to be Beta.

Some people called them the Ice Children, because they were so cold and devoid of mating passion. And yet, somehow, Robb couldn’t imagine Theon as ice. He was warm, and very much alive. Robb thought he was probably the most passionate person he’d ever met.

“I offered you what I offered Jon. What I always offer Jon. Let me be useful to you, just for a little bit. Use me. Use my body. And when it’s done…” He pulled away from Robb. “It’s done. We don’t need to speak of it anymore.”

He smiled and began to stand. Robb lashed out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “What…?” He paused. “What if I _want_ to speak of it?”

Theon turned. His smirk was half-hearted. Sad. “There’s no point, really, is there?” He pulled free from Robb’s grasp. “I’m glad I was useful to you. Perhaps we can even do this again. My offer is always open. But in between, it’s best not to.”

“Why not?”

Theon shot him a look. A you-know-why look. And Robb did. He knew. But Theon said it anyway. “One day you’ll have a bondmate, and they will bring you more satisfaction than I ever could. Children. A proper bonding. I’m a placeholder.” He bent to run a hand through Robb’s hair before turning away and retrieving his undershirt. “That’s all I’ll ever be. A placeholder.”


	2. 1.2: Jon

Someone put a hand on Robb’s shoulder, and he realized he’d driven the tension through the tent’s roof, imagining the ways he would kill Ramsay Snow, wondering what the bastard had been doing to Theon. But he wasn’t a newly presented Alpha, and he should be able to control his aggression better. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

Theon had been missing for two months. A few more seconds to plan his rescue could very well mean the difference between his freedom and his continued captivity. Or worse. He had to remind himself of this. It was difficult, sometimes, to maintain calm when his council consisted of only Alphas, save one. He looked to that one now, and was oddly comforted by Jon’s serious countenance.

Jon, a bastard Omega, but as loyal as any trueborn brother and fierce as any Alpha. Robb often wondered about the arrangement he had with Theon, the “offer.” He should not be jealous of an Omega, he knew this. And yet he was. The same part of him that thought of Theon as his bondmate thought of Jon as competition. Which…Omegas were not competition. They were to be competed for.

He tamped it down, of course. Because even the animal side of him could never bring himself to resent Jon. But it was there, the knowledge that Jon had had Theon as well. He wondered if Jon felt it too. The two of them, Jon and Theon, had never gotten along, were civil to each other at the best of times. And yet when Jon had learned of Theon’s disappearance, he had wasted no time heading the investigation himself.

Robb wondered if perhaps Jon was doing this for him, but he didn’t think so. Not entirely, at least. And in any case, whatever his reasons, if it weren’t for Jon, they wouldn’t be here now, on the verge of brining Theon home.

“Don’t worry,” Jon said, giving Robb’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll get him back.”

 

* * *

**JON**

* * *

 

Jon was three fingers knuckle-deep inside of himself when he became aware that someone was standing in the doorway. He froze, on all fours, ass pointed towards his unexpected visitor. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked over his shoulder.

Theon.

Fuck.

“I, uh…” Theon was holding a plate in his hands. “Robb told me to bring you some dinner.”

Jon pulled out, reached for the covers, and pulled them over himself. “You couldn’t knock!?”

“I did knock.”

“So knock harder next time.”

“Wouldn’t have made a difference. You were making so much noise I could hear you from the other end of the hall.”

Jon felt himself growing warmer, which he hadn’t thought was possible. His heats always brought an uncomfortable…heat with them anyway, like fire under his skin that could not be put out until the cycle had either passed or been satiated. Add shame on top of that and it felt like he might burst into flames at any provocation.

“You could have just left it outside the door,” he muttered, wondering why Theon was still here.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind then Theon invited himself in. He set the plate on Jon’s dresser, and then annoyingly didn’t turn around and show himself out. Instead he came to stand at the foot of the bed. “You sound like you’re in pain.”

“It’s not pain, it’s…” Jon gripped his blanket tighter. It was difficult enough explaining the sensation to an Alpha, but to a freak like Theon, who didn’t know what heat _or_ rut felt like… “It’s like being hungry. Really, really hungry.”

“Hungry in your cunt?”

Jon gritted his teeth. “Would you _leave_? I’m—”

“I don’t know what it’s like,” Theon cut him off, “but I imagine it must be pretty bad to keep you in your room for three days twice a year. Not even able to come down for dinner. So I thought…maybe I could help.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Jon said through gritted teeth, “for bringing my dinner. That’s very _thoughtful_ of you.”

“No, I mean…” Theon _sat_ on the end of Jon’s bed. _Go away_! “Maybe I could _help_.”

Jon glowered at him. The implication was pretty clear. “I don’t want your ‘help’.”

He felt another flare-up building and he really just wanted to get back to what he’d been doing. Maybe lock the door this time. His hand was inadequate, obviously, but it was better than nothing. He’d successfully staved off his last three heats with this technique.

What he really needed was a cock inside him. Something for his walls to pulse against. Filling him up, pumping him full, breeding him. That was what he really needed. Not _Theon_.

Theon held out a hand, as if trying to stay Jon’s objections. “Just…consider it for a moment. I can’t get you pregnant. There’s not risk of us bonding. I may not have the stamina of an Alpha in rut, but I can go for an hour or two. Give me a break and I’m good for a few more. Maybe enough to take the edge off. And besides, because I don’t go into rut, it won’t be aimless pounding. I can control myself, and…” He smirked. “I am quite good at it, if I do say so myself.”

Jon bunched up the blanket. It was such a strange concept to him, Beta sex. Outside of a cycle, no heat or rut involved. How did that even work?

Theon grinned like he could see what Jon was thinking. He _always_ seemed to know what Jon was thinking. It drove him mad, especially when he was using it to poke and prod.

“I know you’re curious about me, Jon, about what I have under my clothes.” His hand went to the waistband of his breeches, and despite himself, Jon felt his flare-up swell. Theon _had_ to have smelled it. If he were an Alpha, he’d be on him in an instant. But instead he just sat there. The flare of his nostrils was the only indication that he was even aware of what was happening under the sheets. “I could show you.”

Jon inhaled sharply through his nose. Theon was right, of course. Jon _was_ curious about him. Had been ever since he’d arrived at Winterfell. A strange, cast-off boy. The first Beta he’d ever spoken to. They weren’t exactly common, weeded out by nature and humans alike. Jon remembered asking Maester Luwin what Betas were for. Omegas carried babies and Alphas put babies into Omegas. But what did Betas do?

Maester Luwin’s answer had always stuck with him. “Nobody knows, Jon. But the Gods saw fit to put them here, so they must have some reason. Nothing is here without a reason.”

Now here was Theon, offering to show him. Perhaps give him a glimpse of that reason.

Jon nodded.

Theon smiled and started working the laces of his breeches. “I’ll just show you what a Beta has,” he said. “You can decide if you’re interested after you’ve seen.”

Jon watched and felt his breathing grow heavy as Theon peeled his layers back. Felt his throat constrict as Theon got up onto his knees and pulled his breeches down and his shirt up, just enough to show.

It…wasn’t as freakish as Jon had imagined. With the stories he’d heard, he expected a Beta to be completely neutered. Instead, Theon had a cock and a cunt, like everyone else, though neither had become dominant, the way an Alpha’s or Omega’s would during puberty. Both parts were…well, equal. The former was a bit smaller than the average Alpha’s and the latter a bit less pronounced than the average Omega’s. But nothing…nothing grotesque.

In fact, Jon might have felt his flare-up peak. He gasped and then groaned at the wetness that flooded the sweat-soaked sheets.

Theon smiled. Alluringly. Jon had never been _lured_ before. “Are you interested? I promise to make it good for you.”

Perhaps it was the brain-fog of heat, but Jon suddenly couldn’t think of a good reason not to. The thought of his fingers didn’t seem half so appealing as a partner. In fact, it downright made him want to cry. His insides ached with emptiness. He needed a cock. _Needed_ it. Theon’s? Yes, Theon’s would do.

He flung back the blanket and spread his legs. “Make it good.” He threw his head back onto the pillow. “Please, please, gods, I can’t take another second. Fill me. I’m so empty.”

“Are you sure?”

Jon couldn’t judge whether Theon was teasing or genuinely asking. He could throttle him either way. “You can’t just offer and show me…that…and then leave me like this.” He groaned and bucked his hips in the air in a futile attempt to bring himself relief. “Fuck me. Fuck me now!”

“My,” Theon chuckled, “eager.” He began to crawl forward, then stopped. Jon groaned. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you. But, um, let me go lock the door first, alright?”

 


	3. 1.3: Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving the relationship between Theon and Sansa a little more vague. If you want to read them as having a close platonic relationship, I will not disabuse you of that notion. If you want to believe that things got kinky between them when Sansa got older, I won't disabuse you of that notion, either. ;)

Robb was the first one out of the tent, eager to get mounted up and ride for the Dreadfort. So eager that he nearly tripped over Lady, who was lying down right where he would trip over her. He stumbled and swore and then looked around, because Lady was like the other direwolves; she never went anywhere without her human. Sure enough, there was Sansa, sitting on some old crates that had been stacked outside the tent. Upon seeing Robb, she quickly stood.

“Robb, I want to come with you.” She lowered her head slightly. On any other Omega, it would have been a gesture of submission. On Sansa, it was defiance. “When you take the castle.”

“No.”

She pinned him with her stare, and Robb knew she was an Omega like their mother, like Jon. Submissive when it suited them, but always fierce. And always able to get their way. “I need to be there,” she said, “when you find him. He’ll need an Omega’s calming influence.”

“I’ll have—”

“Don’t tell me you expect _Jon_ to be of any help.”

Well, perhaps not. But… “It’s no place for you, Sansa.”

“It’s no place for Theon either,” she bit back. Lady lifted her head, attuned to her human’s temper. “I won’t take part in the fighting, if there is any. All I ask is that I’m there when we get him back.” She lifted her chin. “He’s my Beta too.”

 

* * *

  **SANSA**

* * *

“Sansa, are you alright? You’re sweating.” Jeyne set down her needle and pressed her palm against Sansa’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Sansa swatted her hand away. “I’m fine.” In truth, she had woken up chilled to the bone and breakfast has churned her stomach. Gradually, the chill had given way to an uncomfortable warmth, which grew and grew all morning. She was sweating, she knew that. Her dress stuck to her back, and beads of sweat slid down her bodice, between her breasts. The worst of it, though, was between her legs. She hoped Jeyne hadn’t noticed her shifting uncomfortably in her seat during their sewing lessons.

Jeyne frowned at her answer. “I’ll go get Septa Mordane.”

“No, don’t.”

Too late. Jeyne had jumped up from her seat and was hurrying over to the old woman, tugging on her skirt. “Septa, Sansa’s unwell.”

Mordane waddled over. She was a matronly Omega woman, well beyond her breeding years, if septas took mates, that was. An initiate of the Omega Woman, these days Mordane oversaw the highborn Omega females of Winterfell, taught them scripture and the dual arts of Omega-hood and womanhood. “Sansa, dear,” she said, stooping over, “how long have you been feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine.”

“Now, now, dear.” Mordan placed a gentle hand under Sansa’s chin. “You wouldn’t lie to any of the Seven, now, would you? And They are always listening.”

Sansa gnawed on her lip. “Since this morning, Septa.”

Mordane smiled in approval. “Do you have cramps in your belly?”

Sansa nodded.

“Any pain?”

“Not…” Sansa squirmed as another rush of heat made itself known between her legs. “Not pain…so much.”

Mordane caught her movement and stood back with a sigh. “I must congratulate you, Sansa. It appears that today you are a woman grown, and Omega blossomed.” She folded her hands in front of her, demurely. “You’re experiencing your first heat.”

“Oh,” Sansa said.

Jeyne rushed in and hugged her. “Oh, Sansa, I’m so jealous!”

Sansa thought Jeyne might not be so jealous when she felt her own heat, not if this was what it was going to be like. She hadn’t realized how uncomfortable they were. The stories she read always spoke of them vaguely, and when they did, it was always in flowery terms: “Her heart swelled with love” or “He yearned to be with his bondmate.” This…it felt more like being sick than being in love.

She must have been wearing her discomfort on her face, because Mordane clucked her tongue and put a gentle hand on her face. “Why don’t you break from your lessons early, dear?”

Sansa nodded gratefully and set her needle down.

As she stood, Mordane took her arm and drew her close. “Now, go straight to your room. Don’t dally. I will be by later with a tea that will ease your cramps.”

“Thank you, Septa.” Sansa nodded and left the room, the gentle sounds of Omegas murmuring to each other, the clacking of the loom in the corner. Outside, in the hall, she had only her own footsteps to keep her company, ringing off the stones. There was no one about, but she hurried anyway.

As she walked, she felt a stab of…of something in her gut. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it had her reeling against the wall, gripping it for support. It felt like her legs would give out under her. She moaned softly and clutched at her skirt. Was this the “yearning” her stories had spoken of? Was this a “heart swell?”

“Well, well. I thought I smelled something.”

Her head shot up.

A woman was standing next to her. Startlingly close. An Alpha woman. “Are you lost, child?”

Sansa looked up and down the hall. “No. I was…headed for my room.”

The woman smiled. It…seemed friendly enough, but for some reason that Sansa couldn’t place, it made her stomach twist. But perhaps that was just the heat. “You shouldn’t be out wandering the halls alone in your…current state.” The woman placed a hand on her shoulder, and Sansa flinched at the unexpected contact. “Let me escort you back, my Lady.”

Sansa felt frozen in place. She wasn’t supposed to be alone with strange Alphas, let alone allow them to touch her so familiarly. But, well, she was a _woman_ Alpha, after all. It was said there was no one more fiercely protective than a female Alpha.

Before she could really respond, the woman pulled her close. She must have felt the way Sansa tensed up, because she said, “Don’t worry, my Lady. We’ll get you seen to.”

“I’m sure you will.”

The woman whirled around at the strange voice. She growled, and the grip of Sansa’s shoulder became tighter. Sansa winced.

Then, just as quickly, the hand was gone. “Forgive me, my Lord. You startled me.”

Sansa had to stand on tiptoes to see over her shoulder, to see Theon standing there with an odd smile on his face. “I suppose I did,” he said. “It’s lucky I was not another Alpha, or you may have done something you regretted. But then again, if I was another Alpha, I would not have been able to startle you in the first place.”

The woman’s whole body tensed, and Sansa pressed herself against the wall.

“Are you alright, Sansa?” he asked.

“I…I am alright,” she answered, though she wasn’t exactly sure. She was uncomfortable, and it didn’t seem to be just the heat anymore.

“Are you sure?” He was looking at the Alpha now. “Did you _ask_ for this pervert to put her hands on you?”

The woman glared back at him, and a strong scent filled Sansa’s nose. The kind of scent she occasionally sniffed in the courtyard where the Alphas sparred. “Pervert?” the Alpha hissed. “That’s rich, coming from _you_. Rumor has it you’ve fucked a member from every God in the pantheon except the Stranger Himself, and only then because you haven’t figured out _how_ to do it.”

Sansa wasn’t used to hearing such vulgar language, and she nearly gasped. The blasphemy of it. If Septa Mordane had heard…

And Theon. She’d heard stories, that he was promiscuous, that he was a deviant who didn’t even care about the sex _or_ gender of his partners. She hadn’t believed it, hadn’t wanted to believe it, because those stories were unkind and Theon had never been unkind to her.

“Mind your tongue in the presence of a lady,” he said. “You’ve upset her.”

The Alpha woman blinked. Looked at Sansa as if she’d forgotten she was there. The color drained from her face. “Forgive me, my Lady.”

She opened her mouth to say something more, but Theon shoved her away. “That will be all.”

She growled, low in her throat, and even Sansa recognized the challenge there. She tensed, afraid the Alpha might attack, but after a moment, the woman lowered her hackles. Smoothed out her skirts. And lifted her chin in defiance. “I shall see you around, my Lady.”

Sansa hoped not.

“Doubtful.” Theon jerked his head for Sansa to follow him, and she did. As she fell in step beside him, he looped his arm in hers and drew her close. “She’s right, of course.”

“About what?”

“That I’m a pervert. You shouldn’t trust merely _anyone_ who comes along and offers you help. It just so happens that this time I actually _am_ helping you.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling very confused.

“You’re not used to it yet, but you’ll learn quickly. How to judge someone’s intent by their body language and their smell. Alphas, in particular. And _in particular_ , when you are in heat.”

She felt herself flush all the way down to her neck. The fact that he could tell just from smelling her… And not just _him_ in particular—though the fact that it was Theon was uncomfortable enough—but anyone. Anyone could tell that she was…

She wanted to bury her face in her hands. She wanted to lock herself in her room forever.

It was awful and not at all like she’d imagined.

“I hate this,” she muttered, feeling tears of embarrassment and frustration spring to her eyes. “I hate being an Omega.”

Theon looked at her. Was quiet a moment. Then said, “Did you know, I used to think I was an Omega. When I was very little.”

“You…did?” Sansa was so startled she momentarily forgot her discomfort, both physical and emotional. How did you _not_ know what you were? She looked up to see him smiling ruefully.

“Well, obviously I lacked the parts to be considered an Alpha,” he said, scratching at his chin. She wondered if he felt as awkward having this conversation as she did. “So I figured that if I wasn’t an Alpha, I must be the other thing.” He shrugged. “Didn’t even occur to me that there was a third thing. There…aren’t a lot of Betas on the Iron Islands.”

She’d heard vague stories about children being thrown into the sea. She wondered if that was why her father had taken him and not his sister, who was an Alpha and, by extension, a more valuable hostage.

“I hated the idea of being an Omega. I thought they were weak. I thought I was doomed to a life of being weak.” He stared up at the ceiling as they walked. “Then I found out I was a Beta and I was doomed to a life of being useless.”

“You’re not,” Sansa said quickly. “You’re not useless, Theon.”

He looked at her like he’d forgotten she was there. It was probably just her imagination, her heat coloring everything, but he seemed to grow pink in the face.

“Anyway, that’s not the point.” He waved his hand, brushing away his stray comment. “The point is, I used to think Omegas were weak. But then I came to Winterfell and changed my mind.”

Sansa was caught off-guard by his sudden shift. She’d been expecting the beat to fall: _I thought being an Omega was bad until I found out I was a Beta_. But _Winterfell_ had changed his mind on the issue instead?

“What…?” The question was half-formed as she thought through it. “What about Winterfell changed your mind?”

A wistful look came over his face. “The Omegas here, for one.”

“What about them?”

He chuckled. “Perhaps I’ll show you one day. When you’re older, of course, and you’ve had a few more heats underfoot.” He gave her a sly wink. “In the meantime, remember what I said about trusting just anyone. Me included.”


	4. 1.4: Arya

Having agreed that Sansa would be with them once they had negotiated their way into the Dreadfort—and Robb had no doubts that they _would_ negotiate; Jory had been right in that Roose was, by all accounts, too shrewd a man to allow this situation to escalate—Robb lead his council from the tent to where their horses would be waiting for them. He stopped short when he saw who was holding his horse’s reins.

“No,” he said flatly. “You’re not coming with us. You’re not even supposed to _be_ here.”

Arya scowled at him. “I’m a woman grown, and a warrior besides. I should ride with you.”

He took the reins from her hand. “You’re supposed to be watching Bran and Rickon.”

“They’re the ones who said I should go.” Her now-empty hand went to the little sword she kept at her side at all times. She even took it to bed with her, slept with it leaned against the nightstand so she could grab it in the middle of the night. It was a wicked little thing Jon had had made for her, and Robb knew she’d been chomping at the bit to use it on the Bastard of Bolton ever since she’d heard that he was holding Theon captive. “I told them I’d carve that bastard up real good for them.”

Robb sighed. “I can’t allow it. I need you at Winterfell. If, gods forbid, something happens to me, you’ll be the Stark Alpha. You’ll need to lead everyone.” He patted her shoulder, and she tensed at the condescending gesture. He hadn’t meant it to be condescending. “I’ll need you to avenge my death.”

She glared as he mounted up on his horse, along with the other Alphas. “It’s not fair,” she called after him as he rode off. “You’re not the only one who cares about him, you know!”

 

* * *

  **ARYA**

* * *

 

The arrow thunked into the target, landing a hand’s breadth from the center. Arya cursed.

“What would you mother say if she heard you swearing like that?”

Arya’s head spun on her shoulders to see Theon casually leaning against the fence post. She’d been so focused on her practice, she hadn’t seen or heard or smelled him coming. Or perhaps he was really just that stealthy. After all, he didn’t really smell like anything. It was a little spooky, actually.

“Robb sent me to find you. Said you’re supposed to be getting ready for Sansa’s presentation party.”

She ignored him and nocked another arrow. “Fuck Sansa’s presentation.”

“More swearing?”

“Practically learned it from you.” She pulled the string back on her bow. “I’m not going. Jon’s not going to be there.”

“No. He’s not invited.”

_Mother doesn’t want him there. At precious Sansa’s precious presentation party._ Arya curled her lip in disdain. It wasn’t fair, but at the same time, she envied him. “ _I’m_ never going to have a presentation party.”

“Oh yeah?” Theon smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just decide that for yourself, did you?”

She let the arrow fly, but her mind wasn’t really on the task. It went wide again. She sighed and let the empty bow hang loose at her side. “Presentations are the stupidest thing in the world. They just want to parade you around and try to marry you off to some lord or lady and you’ll spend the rest of your life making babies.” She spit on the ground to show her distaste. “All this Alpha and Omega bullshit is…it’s bullshit.”

He didn’t even mention her swearing that time, just sort of cocked his head and watched her rant.

“I’d rather be a Beta like you.”

His eyebrows went up at that. “I doubt that.”

“Betas don’t have to worry about getting married and making babies. Did you have a presentation?”

He shrugged. “Nothing to present.”

“Exactly. Robb’s the oldest Alpha and Sansa’s the oldest Omega. They don’t need me.”

“You don’t want to be needed?”

“I want to be free to do what I want.”

He opened the fence and came in. The courtyard was empty except for the two of them. “And what do you want?”

She paused. She hadn’t really thought that far. “I want to be a fighter,” she answered. “Maybe I’d go across the Narrow Sea. I heard there’s a mercenary army over there called the Beta Children. I think I’d join with them, maybe. Or learn to be an assassin.”

Theon pointed to the target. “You’ll have to learn to aim better if you want to be an assassin.”

“Maybe if I could _practice_ instead of having to get all prettied up for a stupid party…”

He ruffled her hair and she bristled. Only Jon ruffled her hair. Everyone else lost their hand.

“So, if you were a Beta, you’d leave all of your family behind? First opportunity?”

“No,” she said defensively. “I mean…maybe Jon could come with me, I guess.”

“You wouldn’t miss your mother and father? Robb? Sansa?”

Arya rolled her eyes as that last one.

“Or Bran or Rickon?”

“Alright, alright.” She made her way over to the target to gather up her arrows. “I get it.”

“Unless you think Betas are somehow gifted with the ability to not care about anyone or anything, simply because we don’t get married or have children.”

She eyed him from across the courtyard. “That’s not what I was trying to say.”

He eyed her back. “I know. Trust me, if I could switch with you, I would.”

She frowned, uncertain she’d heard right. “You would?” She finished putting her arrows into her quiver and jogged back to him. “You’d want to be an Alpha?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Or do you think I would make a better Omega?”

“Depends. Which one of my siblings do you want to marry and have babies with?”

He gave her a side-eyed look. She wondered if she’d pushed too far, but then he smiled and clapped her on the back. “Cheeky brat.”

She grinned back. “For what it’s worth, I’d let you have _my_ presentation party, if I could.” She slung her bow and quiver over her shoulder. “Maybe you can pretend my presentation party is yours? Or you can wait for Bran if you really want to be an Omega.”

“So you’ll go to the dinner tonight? You’re not going to get me in trouble with Robb?”

“Don’t worry, Theon. I’d never get you in trouble with Robb.”

 

* * *

**A STARK'S RESOLVE**

* * *

The day was gray and overcast, with clouds threatening to dump rain over them. They made it, dry, to the Dreadfort’s gate, Robb riding out front. The Boltons had, of course, seen them coming. There were archers on the battlement, but they would be fools to shoot the Stark Alpha unprovoked. Even provoked, it would spell doom for this minor House to kill the heir to the lords they’d pledged themselves to.

Robb was glad to find that Roose Bolton was no fool, as they had no sooner pulled their horses to a stop than the front gate opened and Roose himself came out to meet them. On foot and unarmed. Robb had never personally met the man, but stories said he was a cold and calculating Alpha, soft-spoken. There were rumors that he was a Beta himself, for he lacked the aggressive nature of an Alpha, but eying the man now, Robb knew him for what he was. One of those quiet Alphas, the sort who exerted their dominance, not through physical force, but through calm. And not a little bit of manipulation.

“Robb Stark,” he greeted, flanked on either side by his own Alphas, though they, too, were unarmed. “I suppose we don’t need to play the farce where I pretend not to know why you are here.”

“You don’t deny that you have Theon Greyjoy?” Robb asked.

“I do not,” Roose answered. “It is as a wrote, Theon Greyjoy is a _guest_ here at the Dreadfort.”

“I did receive your raven.” Robb curled his lip in disgust. The letter had been torn in a fit of rage. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe that.” He urged his horse forward, so that Roose would need to crane his neck even more to address him. Let him understand the difference in their positions. “I’ve come to collect him. Guest or not, I will be escorting Theon Greyjoy back to Winterfell.”

“I would not attempt to oppose you, my Lord.”

“Good. Where is he? I would see him.”

“I will have him brought.”

“No.” Robb shook his head. “I will get him.” He nodded to the gate. “You will open your gate and allow me and my guards in to retrieve him.”

Roose’s eyes challenged him, and for a moment, Robb believe he would truly deny him. In the end, Roose bowed at the waist. “Of course, my Lord.” He turned to the Alpha on his right. “Open the gate for Lord Stark.”

Robb watched Roose as the man ran to give the order, only looking away when the gate opened wide. Then he rode past Roose without another glance, looking only ahead. Jon rode beside him. Once Sansa received the message, she wouldn’t be far behind on her own horse. _Please hold on, Theon,_ he prayed. _I’m coming for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Chapter 1.


	5. 2.1: Two Months Ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: The Search

“They found a body.”

Robb’s heart stopped. Just stopped.

No.

Without his heart pumping blood to his brain, he felt lightheaded. Like he might fall from his horse. Perhaps he was swaying, because Jory made as if to catch him.

“An Omega,” he said. “A woman.”

Robb’s heart started again. The lightheadedness fled. “Where?”

Jory motioned with his head. “This way, my Lord.”

Not too far from the main path, it turned out. Robb smelled it before he saw it. Blood and sex, thick in the air. A few hours old. He used his hand to cover his nose and mouth.

“Gods,” he breathed.

The body they’d found had been mauled, but not by an animal. There had been Alphas here, more than one. Even if he couldn’t smell their pheromones, he could see it, the mad scuffle of boot marks in the dry dirt.

“One of the villagers,” Jory said, kneeling down next to the body. He took off his cloak and draped it over the woman’s body. “Poor girl. Came across a pack of Alphas while on her heat. They probably killed her in their mating frenzy.”

“They tore her apart,” Robb noted, his voice sounded oddly flat even to his own ears. He wondered if Jory thought him compassionless.

He didn’t remark on it. “It happens sometimes, my Lord,” he said instead, standing, hands on his hips. “The commoners…they’re people of base instincts. With one Omega and several Alphas, the urge to fuck and the urge to kill can become indistinguishable.”

“No.” Robb shook his head. “We don’t become mindless animals in rut, Jory.” Theon had taught him that, when he’d been afraid of hurting him. He’d shown Robb how to stop, to put the brakes on full stop, not only when Theon thought things were getting too out of control, but when Robb did as well. Honestly, it was usually the latter.

He looked again at the woman’s arm poking out from under Jory’s cloak. Several fingernails had been pulled out where she’d clawed at the ground to get away. The sheer amount of blood in the dirt attested to her attackers’ viciousness. He found it difficult to believe that _anyone_ could do this, but whoever had had done it knowingly.

In either case… “They need to be brought to justice,” he said. “This cannot go unpunished.”

“I’ll send some Alphas into the village to ask around.”

“Good. In the meantime, we need to continue searching for Theon.” He paused at the disturbing thought. “You don’t think…?” He hadn’t immediately considered it because there was no scent of Beta. He was so finely attuned to Theon’s smell that he would have noticed right away. Still, could it really be a coincidence that Theon had been missing for several hours and this body was several hours old?

“I doubt they would have any interest in a Beta,” Jory said. “At least, as long as he had the sense of mind to stay clear of them.”

“When has Theon ever had sense of mind?” Robb dismounted from his horse. Better to get his nose closer to the ground. “I want this area searched. Every inch of it.”

“I would have smelled it,” Jory said, following along beside Robb as he followed the Alphas’ footprints in the direction they’d gone. “If anything had happened to him. Something like that…” He nodded over his shoulder, to the carnage behind them. “It’s not easy to miss.”

“Search anyway,” Robb said. “ _Every inch_.”

Jory nodded. “I’ll tell the party.”

He went off, and Robb continued to follow the trail. The footsteps were heavy and clumsy. The attackers had chased the woman quite a ways through the woods. Robb could make out perhaps five or six different Alpha scents; the lingering smell of both rut and heat had his own rut stirring, but he could tamp it down. Mostly he felt aggression rising to the surface. He wanted to find whoever had done this and drive his sword through their throats.

He wondered what an Omega was doing out here by herself, especially if she knew she was going to be in heat. Unbonded Omegas tended not to stray too far from the company of their own kind during that phase of their cycle. Perhaps she wasn’t unbonded? Perhaps her bondmate had tried to protect her?

Robb made his way through the brush, sniffing.

And stopped.

The new scent was faint, and yet it hit him like a wall.

Theon.

He rushed forward with a newfound panic. Theon had been here! He’d been by this way! And to his growing horror, he realized the scent followed the attackers’ path.

The path came to a head in a small clearing. The dirt had been churned by horses’ hooves. Robb could smell the others, the Omega woman and her Alpha attackers. And another new scent. Another Alpha. Overpowering. Their leader.

“Theon!” Robb cupped his hands to his mouth. “Theon!”

There was no blood here, but obviously some struggle had taken place. Amid all the horses’ hooves were human footprints, pointing in every direction. One, at least, had been barefoot. The Omega woman, which Robb could gather from the size alone. She had been naked when they’d started hunting her. _Hunting_ her. That’s what it was, he realized. This was worse than Alphas who had taken advantage of a situation, who had _conveniently_ not deigned to rein themselves in when faced with an Omega in heat; they had _planned_ this.

And Theon had encountered them.

The human footprints ended at the edge of the clearing. They had taken off on their horses.

“Jory!” Robb scrambled back through the underbrush. “Jory! Bring me my horse! I need to give chase!”


	6. 2.2: Two Months and Seven Hours Ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay makes his grand appearance, so warnings for general Ramsay creepiness. Be sure to mind the tags going forward.
> 
> On a lighter note, I added a few porny bits to Jon's chapter. Not a lot, just a few lines, but feel free to give it another read if you liked that particular chapter.

Theon lowered his bow. What he’d initially taken to be a spooked animal running through the underbrush had come within scenting distance. And it was no animal. A young woman came barreling from between the trees, branches clawing at her tangled hair. She was naked and bore the telltale scent of heat mingled with fear.

She stopped when she saw Theon, her eyes widening. Her nose flared. Her instincts made a split-second decision, and then she was running straight at him. She tripped over a root, and Theon ran to meet her, to help her to her feet.

She clung to him when he knelt down. “Please! You have to help me!”

Questions were not necessary at the moment. Besides, he could piece the situation together on his own. An Omega in heat, naked, running through the woods. Instead of asking questions, he let her cling to him. “My horse is just over here.”

She gripped him like her life depended on it. “Please, hurry.” She kicked at him with her heels, as if he _were_ the horse. “Hurry, hurry! They’re…”

He heard them. The thundering of hooves, the singsong voices echoing through the trees. His nose was not as attuned as an Alpha’s or Omega’s; if they got within smelling distance, it would probably be too late.

He gathered her up in his arms, awkwardly, turned and ran.

The horses and voices grew louder. He caught a whiff of Alpha.

Oh gods, no way he was going to make it to the horse. He dropped her. She landed and rolled in the dirt, stared up at him open-mouthed as he unslung his bow from his back. “Get behind me,” he ordered as he drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. Aimed it at the trees. Waited.

She whimpered and crawled behind him.

Well, when he’d gone out for a hunt this morning, he hadn’t expected his day to go like this.

The riders burst through the trees, one after another after another. Laughing, bringing with them an overwhelming smell of Alpha. The first one to see Theon and his charge—gods, he didn’t want a charge, responsibilities were for Alphas—he stopped short. Took in the situation with his eyes, then his nose. Smirked.

He was a large male Alpha. His scent was overwhelming. And the other riders stopped their horses behind him, waiting for his order. Theon trained his arrow on him.

“What’s this?” The man urged his horse forward at a slow cantor. The other Alphas followed suit, circling their horses around. “Some wild animal has beaten us to our prey.”

“You’re trespassing on Stark lands,” Theon said.

The lead Alpha ignored him and turned to the others. “What sort of animal do you suppose that is?”

The woman to his right, the lone female of the seven, made a show of lifting her nose and breathing deeply. “Never smelled anything like it, really. Smells sort of…bland, don’t you think?”

Theon gritted his teeth. “This Omega is under my protection.”

“Sure makes a lot of noise,” a large blond Alpha said. He was even bigger than the leader, though obviously _not_ the leader. “You want me to shut it up for you, Ramsay?”

Theon curled his lip in defiance and drew the string of his bow tighter. He would never be able to fend them all off. He knew it. They knew it. But if he took out their leader, perhaps the others would scatter. Doubtful. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. “This Omega is under my protection,” he repeated. “And _I_ am under Lord Stark’s protection.”

The lead Alpha grinned, ear to ear. “Oh, that’s no wild animal, Damon. My mistake. It’s tamed.”

“It’s one of those Starks’ bitches,” a smaller Alpha laughed. “One of those…what do you call ‘em…Betas?”

“Hmm. I’ve heard of them. Been thinking about getting one for myself.” The lead Alpha swung his leg over the side of his saddle and began to dismount from his horse.

Theon considered shooting him in the back while it was turned. Perhaps the shock of it would give him and the woman enough time to run, enough time to get to his horse. But then the lead Alpha—Ramsay, it seemed—was turning to him, a cold challenge in his eyes. _Go ahead_ , it said. _Shoot. You won’t make it more than five paces_.

“What do you think?” he asked, baring his teeth. “You want to be my little Beta?”

_Not on your life_.

Theon let his arrow loose. It struck the man in his chest, missed his heart. Still, it gave Theon immense satisfaction to see the man’s eyes widen in surprise. He hadn’t expected Theon to take his challenge. Let _that_ be his first lesson on Betas.

“Run!” Theon turned and ran. He didn’t have time to carry the woman, and stopping for her would ruin his only chance of escape. He could only hope she could keep up with him as he tore back for Smiler. A split-second later, he heard her footsteps behind him, bare feet kicking up dirt and leaves. It might be a split-second too late for her.

Behind them, the lead Alpha was shouting, “Ow! Fuck! Shit!” Then laughing. “Fuck, that hurt!” The sound of horses’ hooves closely behind them. The Omega’s scream, followed by a dull thud as she hit the ground.

Theon squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t go back for her, couldn’t even slow down. Perhaps if he got to Smiler, he would be able to ride back and scoop her up. If not, he would have to ride for Winterfell and come back with a cadre of Alphas. She would be dead by then.

He caught sight of Smiler’s flank flashing in the light, his horse’s sleek black fur guiding him. “Smiler!” He reached out, ready to grasp the saddle to haul himself up. But his fingers never made contact.

Something blunt struck him on the side of the head. He fell, rolling in the dirt face-first. Grit filled his nose, blotted out his senses for several seconds. By the time he managed to right himself, he was surrounded on all sides.

The lead Alpha came limping towards him as the others dismounted from their horses. The larger blond Alpha grabbed Theon by the hair and yanked his head back. “I guess Betas aren’t really that fast.”

Theon tried to shake him off. “You’ll regret this,” he snarled. “You’ll regret _touching_ me. The Starks will know I’m gone. They’ll come looking for me, and when they do, they’ll find you. If you let me go now, I _might_ be able to convince them to let you live.”

The lead Alpha came forward, clutching his chest where the arrow had struck him. It seemed to be a minor annoyance. He had to lean down to grab Theon’s chin. “I’m so sure the Starks will comb the forest for one little Beta.”

“I’m a highborn lord. A Greyjoy. My family—”

“Doesn’t give a shit about you. You’re not furthering the line. They can’t even hock you off on anyone for a quick political marriage.”  He smirked. “You might as well be a bastard.”

Theon met his gaze. This was a man who was used to fearful submissiveness. He wouldn’t give him that pleasure. “If anything happens to me, Robb Stark will cut the head from your shoulders and feed you to the dogs. And that’s after he’s done with you.”

The man threw back his head and laughed. Winced and grabbed at his arrow wound. Then continued laughing. “No,” he said, once he’d gotten himself under control again. “No, I don’t think he will.” He whistled to the other Alphas. “Why don’t you finish up the hunt?”

A small Alpha was holding the Omega woman down. “You don’t want to…?” He nodded to the whimpering woman.

He scoffed. “Bitch made it too easy. Hardly got me worked up into a rut at all. If she weren’t in blazing heat, I wouldn’t even be hard.” He adjusted himself through his pants. “No, you can have the honors. I’m going to sit this one out and keep our new friend here company.”

The small Alpha shrugged. “Alright.” He dragged the Omega to her feet and gave her a shove forwards. “Alright, bitch, you got one more chance to give us a good hunt. Go!”

Sobbing, the woman took off into the trees. The other Alphas gave her a twenty-second head start, then took off after her on foot, whooping and hollering as they went.

The lead Alpha chuckled as he watched them go, but Theon just wanted to be sick. He turned his head when he heard the first screams start.

“So,” the lead Alpha began conversationally. He scratched at his chin. “I’ve never had a Beta of my own before. I can’t say I’m entirely sure what you do with a Beta.”

Theon dug his fingers into the dirt and refused to look up. He wanted to block out the sounds, the smell of blood that had suddenly filled the clearing.

The man ran a deceptively gentle hand over his head, like he was petting a dog. “I guess we’ll have time to figure that out.”


	7. 2.3: Ten Hours Later

“We’ve been chasing them for hours, my Lord,” Jory called. “You need to break!”

Robb ignored him. His horse was wet with sweat, practically foaming at the mouth with how hard he pushed it onwards. But he couldn’t stop. They already had a head start.

“We won’t be able to track them in the dark.”

If they stopped for the night, it would only put more distance between them. Robb couldn’t allow that.

“My Lord!”

Robb’s horse screamed as its leg went out from under it. The world became hard, painful. Robb didn’t even realize why until Jory was helping him to sit up, hands checking everywhere for injuries.

“Are you alright, my Lord?”

Robb turned and spat a wad of blood into the dirt. His lip was cut. What was a cut lip? He pushed Jory away and struggled to his feet. Only for his feet to fight back. He took a step towards his horse, wallowing on the ground, before his own legs gave out.

Jory was by his side in an instant. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine! We need to—”

“We need to return to Winterfell.”

“No!”

“I’ll send out a team of men to follow their tracks in the morning.”

“They’ll be long gone by then!” Robb struck at the ground with his fist. “Fuck!”

“They’re already gone, my Lord.” Jory’s voice was soft as he put a hand on Robb’s back. “There’s nothing more you can do.”

“No, there is. I can’t…”

“Nothing more you can do tonight.” Jory placed himself in front of Robb so their eyes could meet. Robb bared his teeth at the perceived challenge, but Jory grabbed him by the back of the neck and held his head steady. Bored into him with his eyes. Soft. Not threatening. Not challenging. “We’ll get him back, Robb. I promise you. But you’re no good to him if you get yourself killed before you can rescue him.”

Jory was always level-headed for an Alpha. Robb felt his anger draining away, replaced by a weariness he hadn’t even been aware of. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded.

  

* * *

 

The next few days were seven types of Hell.

Alphas went out into the woods, into the village. His best trackers, his best interrogators. Robb wanted to go with them, but he was forced to remain in bed. He’d broken his leg in his mad chase. The maester said he was lucky he hadn’t snapped it, the way he’d fallen on it. His horse had been hobbled and had to be put down.

Jon agreed to be his eyes, ears, and nose.

“Thank you,” Robb said, gripping Jon’s hand.

Jon simply looked down at him, countenance unreadable. “I’m doing this for him as much as I’m doing it for you. I owe him. He’s…I owe him.”

Of course. Theon’s “offer.” Robb felt just a twinge of jealousy. Overshadowed by gratitude. He gripped Jon’s hand even tighter.

“Is it strange that we share him?” It was not unheard of for an Alpha to breed several Omegas, a harem with no one bondmate. It was also not unheard of—rare, but not unheard of—for an Omega to share two Alphas. But an Alpha and Omega sharing a Beta? He didn’t think he’d ever heard of such a thing.

“Share him?”Jon cracked the tiniest of smiles. “To share him, we’d have to own him, and neither of us do. Nobody _owns_ Theon. I don’t think anyone _can_.”

Robb knew he was right. Hoped he was right. Being confined to bed, imagining what might be happening to Theon as they spoke—and with the very real images of the murdered Omega woman supplying his imagination—was the most helpless feeling his could imagine.

Robb measured the days based on the news Jon brought back to him.

_Our trackers followed them as far as they could, but lost their scent when they rejoined the main road. We’re still searching for them, seeing if their scent reemerges, but…it’s not looking hopeful._

At least he was honest.

_Our interrogators came back with reports of a band of unknown Alphas passing through one of the nearby villages. They’re traveling east, and we’re following them._

Better news.

_A farmer said she encountered a group of seven Alphas and one Beta on the road to market. The Beta was unconscious, and when she asked about it, the lead Alpha threatened to skin her alive if she didn’t mind her own business. She pointed us in the direction they went._

Squeezing Robb’s hand, “We’re closing in on them.”

Robb kept the Old Gods of his father, who were too numerous to name. On the fifth day of his confinement to his bed chamber, Robb dismissed Maester Luwin’s advice—and his own better judgment—and fought his way out of bed, overcome with the need to do something. Even if that something was praying.

He was nearly to the stairs when he saw Sansa coming up. He made a small effort to hide from her, but it was clear she had already seen him, because she rushed up the last few steps, blinking in confusion. “Robb? Where are you going? You’re not supposed to be up.”

“I can’t remain in bed while Theon is _out_ there,” he said. “I need… _at least_ I need to go to the heart tree to pray for him.”

Sansa’s face softened. “I’ve been praying for him too. Every day at the sept.” She took his hand in her own. “The septon told me that the Seven can hear us wherever we are. Gods do not live in stones and statues. Those are made for us.” She tugged gently on his hand. “You need to be in bed, Robb. You need to rest, so that if the Gods answer my prayers, you can be their messenger and bring him back safely.”

She stared up at him with earnest eyes, and Robb wondered if this was someone else he shared Theon with.

“Sansa.” He gripped back. “Will you pray with me for just a moment? Here?”

She looked a bit startled, but nodded quickly nonetheless. “I’ve…been praying to the Beta Gods, the Man and Woman. Is that…?”

He nodded. It was apt.

She took his other hand and stood with her head slightly bowed. Robb followed her lead. “The Seven Who Are One. The Beta Man, who holds the strength of change, the power of transition, the immutably mutable. The Beta Woman, who carries the wisdom of patience, the force of knowledge, the ever-giving.  Please watch over Theon. Please protect him from harm. Please bring him home safely.”

Perhaps there was power in Sansa’s prayer after all, because the next day, Jon returned with news.

_We have a name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Chapter 2


	8. 3.1:...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3: Recovery
> 
> New tags, people. Nothing too graphic is depicted, by sometimes the implication of something can be just as bad.
> 
> Also, I apologize in advance for all the italics. It felt like the easiest way to convey, visually, what's happening in the past versus the present.

“Theon!”

Someone was yelling his name.

“Gods, what did they _do_ to him?”

Someone was coming closer.

He flinched as hands tugged on the bindings at his wrist. “Get him down! Jon, help me get him down!”

Jon? Jon Snow? No, there were lots of Jons. He was doing it again. Being hopeful.

You’d think he’d learn.

He didn’t even recognize the sound he made when his bindings were loosened and his arms were freed. He was eased down into someone’s arms. The bindings on his ankles were loosened, and the strong arms eased him down to the floor.

“Gods,” a voice whispered. “Theon. Can you hear me?”

There was a commotion somewhere farther away, someone else saying, “Let me through.”

“No!” the first voice, loud and painful this time, yelled. “No, don’t let her in! She shouldn’t see him like this.”

“I said, let me through!”

More hurried footsteps. A sharp gasp.

Theon squeezed his eyes tighter. They’d brought someone new to come gawk at their pet freak.

“Theon!”

“Sansa, don’t—Jon, help me cover him up. She shouldn’t—”

“Let me see him, Robb!”

Sansa? Jon?

Robb?

He was feverish again.

More hands were on him. Gentle. Lifting his head. “Is he…?”

“Alive. He’s breathing.”

Fingers traced his lips. “He needs water. Someone get him water.”

“You heard her! Water! Bring it!”

“And blankets. He’s practically blue.”

“Blankets! Hurry! Get your maester down here.”

Hands brushed through his hair. There was sobbing that wasn’t his own.

“Theon.”

He didn’t know whose voice that was.

“It’s alright, Theon. I’m here. We’re all here.”

Was this a dream?

“We’re taking you home.”

 

* * *

 

_On the first day of his capture, they’d wanted to see what was between his legs. With his arms tied behind his back and a bit gag shoved in his mouth, he wasn’t in any position to fight back when they hauled him off the lead Alpha’s horse, pulled his breeches off, and forced his legs apart. He could only close his eyes as they laughed and commented on what a freak he was._

_“It’s like you couldn’t decide what you wanted to be,” the lead Alpha said, “Alpha or Omega. You wanted to be both. But really, you’re neither.”_

_“Wonder how much you could fit into a tiny cunt like that.”_

_“More than you could in an Alpha’s, less than an Omega’s, I’d wager.”_

_“Let’s see then. Who wants to take bets to see what he can take?”_

 

* * *

 

_They rode for five days. Theon had no idea where they were going and what would happen to him once they got there. He was unconscious more often than he was conscious. They weren’t overly concerned with feeding him._

_When he slept, he dreamt that Robb had found them. That he’d found Theon’s horse or else just sensed him, the way people said some Alpha’s could sense their bondmates. But when he woke up, he realized how foolish these dreams truly were._

_On the fifth day, they came to a castle. Theon was battered and weary from hunger and from his captors’…treatment. Their “curiosity.” For a brief moment, he thought they’d returned to Winterfell, and his heart swelled with hope. Crushed a moment later when he blinked the sand from his eyes and realized this was no Winterfell. It was a castle he didn’t recognize. Empty and dead._

_“Father, I’m back.”_

_Father? The lead Alpha’s father was the lord of a castle?_

_“What mangy cur have you picked up this time, Ramsay?”_

_Theon recognized the tone of disapproval and utter disappointment. When the lord drew near, he also recognized the pale blue eyes. They were the same ones that had stared at him in mirth each night as he’d begged the other Alphas to stop. There was no mirth in the lord’s eyes, though. Just disapproval and disappointment._

_“You’re no peasant,” he said. The bit gag was removed from Theon’s mouth. “Speak, boy.”_

_“I…” Theon choked and started again. “I am Theon Greyjoy, ward of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. Your…son…has kidnapped me and held me against my will and—”_

_The lord turned from him. “This is unacceptable, Ramsay.”_

_Theon felt another swell of hope. This was a misunderstanding. This lord would return him to Winterfell and his captors would be punished accordingly._

_“Do the Starks know he is missing?”_

_Ramsay shrugged. “They won’t care. He’s a Beta.”_

_“And you are an idiot.”_

_His voice was hardly above a whisper, and yet it seemed to strike Ramsay like a slap. Good._

_The lord turned to Theon again and contemplated him for a moment. “If the Starks come looking for him, I won’t protect you.”_

_What? **If** the Starks come looking? Wasn’t he going to tell them he was here?_

_“Please,” Theon choked, imploring. “Please, you have to help me. These people, they—”_

_The bit gag was shoved in his mouth again, and he was dragged off. The lord made no move to stop them._

 

* * *

 

_They stripped him and tied him to a cross. The bit gag came out so he could scream._

_The first day they didn’t do much. Gave him a couple punches to the gut, when he was strung up and unable to so much as flinch away. Then they left him, screaming and cursing at them._

_He screamed and cursed for a long time, even though he knew they probably couldn’t hear. He threatened them and promised all sorts of torture once the Starks came for him._

_He prayed silently for Robb to come._

 

* * *

 

_The next day, or several days later, Ramsay came with food. “Scraps,” he said, “for the dog.” Theon was so hungry he ate what was given, using his hands, kneeling on the floor._

_“When the Starks come for me,” he spat, “you’ll be the one eating scraps off the floor like a dog.”_

_Ramsay’s face was impassive. “They won’t.”_

 

* * *

 

_Over the next few days, he was beaten, cut, and whipped. He had several of his fingernails ripped out. He had the bones in his foot crushed. He had a hot branding iron pressed to the small of his back._

_He pleaded, tried to bargain. “I’ll give you anything you want!” he cried as the big Alpha, Damon, brought the whip down on his back again. He screamed as his flesh tore open._

_“You got nothing we want.”_

_“The Starks! The Starks will pay for my return!”_

_Another lash, landing on his ribs. The world went white with pain._

_When he came to, Ramsay was kneeling over him. “No they won’t.”_

 

* * *

 

_Ramsay flayed him. It was his favorite thing. His eyes lit up with such glee as he slid his narrow flaying knife under Theon’s skin and peeled it away from his body._

_Theon screamed and begged for the whip again. Anything besides this._

_In fact, the first time Ramsay raped him, it was during a flaying session, when he’d worked himself into an excited rut. Pulled Theon off the rack. Threw him on the floor and took him right there. Huffing and panting like an animal._

_Theon cried out for Robb to save him._

_But he never did._

 

* * *

 

“Theon.”

He flinched when the mattress dipped.

“Theon, it’s just me. It’s Robb.”

He pulled tighter into the blankets. Buried his face in the pillow.

No.

“The maester said you were well enough for visitors.”

How many days had passed? Every time he woke up, he expected to be back there. Every time he woke up, it felt like he was dreaming.

Except that he hurt.

“How are you feeling?”

Theon pulled away from the body sitting next to him.

“Sorry. I wasn’t…”

This wasn’t real. He didn’t want this to be real.

“I’ll just…I’ll come back later, alright?”

Theon didn’t respond.

The body’s weight disappeared and the mattress went back to the way it had been.

 

* * *

 

“Theon.”

The voice was near, but the bed didn’t dip.

“Are you awake?”

Theon tried very hard not to move. If his visitor thought he was asleep, maybe they’d go away.

Something must have given him away, though, because his visitor continued, “It’s Jon. You…you remember me, right?”

Theon groaned into his pillow.

“I…brought you something to eat. The maester said you haven’t been eating. I guess they thought maybe I could…” He trailed off.

“’M not hungry.”

“Huh?” Footsteps came closer, and Theon flinched.

“I said, I’m not hungry,” he repeated, lifting his head so that it wouldn’t muffle into the pillow. “Please, just…leave me alone.”

“Theon…”

“Don’t look at me.”

“Alright.” Something clinked softly. “I’ll just leave your dinner here. It’s waiting for you if you want it.”

 

* * *

 

“Theon.”

The voice sounded faraway, like it was too uncertain to even enter the room.

Theon turned slowly in bed—his body was sluggish with pain—and saw Sansa standing in the doorway. He turned away from her.

“Theon,” she repeated.

“Please don’t come in.” He pulled the blanket up over his head. “Don’t look at me.”

He felt her hesitate at the door. Then turn and leave, her footsteps light as they faded away.

 

* * *

 

The blanket was ripped away. Theon grabbed for it, his shield, but it was out of his reach. The cold light of day blinded him, and he threw up a hand to protect his eyes.

“Why are you being so awful to them?”

Theon blinked blearily and found himself staring up at Arya. Her bottom lip had teeth marks in it. He remembered that she used to chew it when she was nervous. She didn’t look nervous, though. She looked furious.

“Are you really going to starve yourself,” she said in a clipped tone, “just to spite Robb? What about the rest of us? Don’t you care about us at all?”

“Spite Robb?”

“For not finding you sooner. I get it. I do. I wish you could see how hard he looked for you. I wish you could see how he didn’t stop, not for _one_ second while you were gone. I don’t know if that would make any difference. Maybe not. I guess I’d be pissed too. But starving yourself isn’t…it’s not…” Her lip trembled.

Theon sat up. “I’m not… Robb thinks I hate him?”

“Well, don’t you?”

“No. No, of course not.”

“Then why do you keep sending us _away_?”

He drew his knees to his chest. “You shouldn’t see.”

“See _what_?”

“See what he did to me.”

Arya stared at him in disbelief. “ _That’s_ what this is about? You really think I’ll judge you or something? You think Robb will? Or Jon or Sansa? Are you that stupid? I don’t give a flying fuck what he did to you. I mean, I give a fuck. I’d stick Needle straight through his gut for what he _did_ to you. But I don’t give a fuck what’s happened, whatever you think I _shouldn’t see_.”

“Because you haven’t seen.”

“Then _show_ me.”

No, never. She hadn’t been there. She hadn’t seen. And besides that, she wasn’t…she was too young to understand. Not that much younger than Sansa. But she wouldn’t understand the implication of it. She wouldn’t understand _what_ Ramsay had stolen from him. More than just his parts.

What Ramsay had really stolen from him was his usefulness.

 

* * *

 

_Why does a Beta need a cock anyway? Hand me a knife._

* * *

_Might as well even it out. Hand me that poker. Get it nice and hot._


	9. 3.2:...

He knew it wasn’t a dream when Robb came back.

He came back.

“Arya told me.” He remained hovering at the door.

Theon realized he’d been terrified of opening his eyes before. Terrified that this illusion would vanish in the light of day. Now he turned and looked and there was Robb. Not an illusion.

“I’m sorry,” Robb said. “She shouldn’t have said those things to you. She had no right. I’ve—”

“How can you stand to look at me?”

Silence hummed, like a plucked string.

“Wh-what?”

“You were there. You saw what… You saw.” Theon clutched at the blanket, feeling the empty space beside him in the bed. “How can you stand to _look_ at me? Knowing I’m…ruined.”

“You’re not…” Heavy boots clomped into the room, and Theon flinched. “You’re not ruined, Theon.”

“Don’t lie. Don’t lie to me. You saw it. You saw how I can’t…” He turned his head away when Robb approached. “I’m _useless_ now. To you and Jon and Sansa. To anyone.”

He jerked away when he felt hands on his shoulders. Strong hands. Angry hands. He tried to curl in on himself. _Please, please, stop. Robb, Robb, where’s Robb_? But he was right there, shaking him.

“How could you ask that? _How_ could you ask that!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Immediately, the shaking stopped. Robb took a step back, breathing heavily. His hands outstretched in front of him. Shaking. “I…sorry.” He sounded…scared. “I didn’t…mean…”

Theon hugged himself and stared up at Robb.

“ _How can I stand to look at you_? As if I could ever look at you with…what? Revulsion?” He shook his head. “No, never. Never. I don’t care…not even if he had burned off half your face.”

“But it wasn’t my _face_ , Robb.” Theon couldn’t even look at him. “It wasn’t my face.”

Robb was quiet, and Theon didn’t want to know what he was thinking.

“I wish it _had_ been my face. I’d rather he have cut off my arms and legs.” He studied his hands, the fingers that had been taken from him. “At least then I could still…”

“Theon, don’t.”

“I can’t—with Jon and Sansa—when they go into heat—when they might actually _need_ me. But you…” His eyes felt so heavy, he could hardly even lift them to look at Robb. And even then, he stopped just short of his face, focusing on his chest instead. “M-maybe you could use my ass.” He winced at the thought. “H-he didn’t tear it up as badly as my c—”

“Stop!”

Theon fell silent and flinched when it looked like Robb was going to grab for him again. Then flinched at the hurt look that crossed Robb’s face.

Robb lowered his voice. “Don’t talk like that. Don’t you dare. I didn’t— _we_ didn’t almost start a war to get you back because you’re a piece of meat to us. Why are you acting like it’s your fault when it’s mine?”

Theon shook his head. _No, no_.

“I’m sorry.” It came out in a weary breath. “I’m so sorry, Theon. I should have found you sooner. I should have _tried_ harder. I should have protected you.”

Theon tensed.

Robb paced to the other side of the room, his back towards Theon. And it shouldn’t have mattered, because Theon hadn’t even been looking at his face, but now it made him uncomfortable. And uncertain. Like Robb was going to leave again.

“I should have protected you,” he repeated, “like a real bondmate would have.”

His heart stopped. He hadn’t heard that, had he?

“I’m so—”

Before Robb could get another word out, Theon was throwing the blankets back. It wasn’t exactly impulse, more like a blind panic. He reached out for Robb, suddenly desperate to feel him, to know he was really there. He knees buckled. Weeks strapped to a cross, days in a bed. He fell.

Faster than he could have imagined, Robb was there, kneeling next to him. Hands shaking, as if unsure what he should do with them. So Theon showed him.

He grabbed Robb, flung his arms around his neck and drew him close. Drew him close and buried his nose in the red hair. Breathed in his scent. Not his Alpha scent. His Robb scent. “I knew you’d come for me,” he whispered. “Even when I doubted, I _knew_ you’d come for me.”

Robb’s arms snaked out tentatively to grip Theon’s shoulders.

“But after he…after he cut the usefulness out of me—”

“No,” Robb murmured, hands in Theon’s hair. “That’s _not_ what happened.”

“—I hoped you _wouldn’t_ come for me. I didn’t want you to see.”

“You’ll never know how happy I was to _see_ you.” Robb pulled him tighter, and it hurt Theon’s shoulders, his ribs. Everywhere. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t want to pull away. “I mean, angry, of course. And scared. So scared. I thought I’d lost you just as soon as I’d found you. But when I saw that you were breathing…” He hiccupped. Was he crying? “I don’t think a mother could have felt happier hearing their baby cry for the first time. I was just so, so glad to have you back.”

Theon hugged back, made his grip as tight as he could with his weakened hands. Robb was lying. It wasn’t true. It didn’t _sound_ true. But he didn’t feel like fighting it. For whatever reason, Robb wanted him to believe it.

So he would.

 

* * *

 

Theon slept. And with the help of a draught from Maester Luwin, he didn’t dream. He didn’t dream of Ramsay cutting and tearing his body. He didn’t dream that Robb was disgusted with him.

When he woke up, there was a bowl of porridge on the nightstand. His stomach growled. He was so hungry. Couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last. It depended on so many things—how much time had passed since he’d been taken out of the dungeons, and what you meant by “eat.” He was hungry, but he couldn’t stand the thought of eating. Still, he supposed he should try. For Robb. And Arya, who seemed to think he was starving himself to spite them all.

Just as he reached for the bowl, there was a knock on the door.

Theon froze, unsure what to do.

The door opened and Jon came in with a bowl of his own. He also froze when he saw Theon up, arm outstretched for the nightstand. “Oh…you’re awake.” He smiled weakly. “Is it…alright if I come in? I just…I have some warmer porridge.”

Theon nodded and Jon stepped forward, looking at him like he was a spooked rabbit and would bolt any moment. Theon struggled into a sitting position and Jon set the bowl on his lap. It was, indeed, warm, steaming. With an uncertain hand, Theon gripped the spoon, dripping oats as he angled it towards his mouth. The first bite stung with how sweat it was, and he felt tears spring to his eyes.

“Is it…is something wrong with it? I can take it back. I can—”

“It’s perfect,” Theon said through the mouthful. He took another bite and another before awkwardly adding, “Thank you.”

Jon tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll just take that cold stuff and go.”

“Could you…?” Theon stared down into the bowl. “Could you stay?”

“Of course.” Jon was sitting on the edge of the bed in an instant. “Is there something you need?”

“Not…no.” He took another bite, let it linger on his tongue this time. It gave him a few seconds to think. Honey, that was the sweetness. “I wanted to thank you, also, for finding me.”

Jon didn’t respond right away. Theon didn’t lift his head to see whatever expression might be on his face, but he could hear the nervous tapping of a hand against a thigh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do better.”

“Please.” Theon set the spoon aside and grabbed Jon’s hand, silencing the tapping sound. “I don’t want to have this conversation _again_. I want to thank you for finding me, and I would appreciate it if you just accepted that.”

Again, Jon didn’t respond right away. It took Theon a second to realize Jon was nodding. “Sure. But you have to accept that you have to eat if you want to get better.”

In response, Theon ladled another spoonful into his mouth.

Jon stood.

“Wh-where—?”

“I’m going to go the kitchens and get you a whole tray of food. And then I’m going to come back and sit right here—” He jabbed a finger at the mattress. “—while you eat every last bite you possibly can.”

“You’re pretty pushy, for an Omega.” Theon cracked a smile to show Jon he was kidding.

Jon smiled back, then turned to go.

“Will you…hurry back?”

“In no time, you’ll be begging me to leave you be,” Jon shot over his shoulder. “Which is too bad, because you won’t be able to get rid of my, Greyjoy, even if you try.”

 

* * *

 

With his stomach full and another dream-chasing potion, he slept through the night. And when he woke up again, light was streaming through the window and someone was knocking on his door again. This time he called, “Come in.”

The door creaked open and in came Sansa, carrying a hand basket. She smiled shyly. “I had heard you were receiving guests again?”

“ _Please_ come in.”

She did, head slightly bowed. “Is it alright if I change your bandages?”

Theon squirmed a bit under the blankets. His bandages were soaked through with sweat, blood, and pus. They itched horribly. The idea of fresh cloth was appealing. But at the same time…his bandages, filthy as they were, covered his shameful, even filthier wounds underneath.

Sansa, always attuned to others, sensed his discomfort. “It’s alright. I can call the maester…”

“No.” He shook his head. “Someone needs to do it, and I’d rather it was you.”

She came forward. “I’ll be quick.” She set her basket on the bed, opened the lid, and reached in. Then paused, a roll of bandages in her hand. “I…I’m supposed to ask if you need help…going to the privy.”

That hung awkwardly in the air for a moment.

“You…needn’t concern yourself,” he finally said, feeling heated under the loose material of his nightshirt. Gods, Sansa didn’t need to see or hear about this, deal with this. “I wouldn’t presume to burden you.”

She huffed. “It’s no burden, Theon.” She set the bandages down. “I don’t mind, really I don’t.  Let me help you.”

“I…do need to…go,” he admitted, unable to look her in the eye. Wave after wave of shame crashed down on him, but he fought the urge to run. This was part of getting better as well, and he’d already promised Jon. “If you help me undo the bandages, I…I think I can go on my own.”

She nodded. “Alright.” She began to pull the sheets back, and Theon helped her. She’d already seen what had been done to his body, after all. He wanted to shield her from it. Shit, he wanted to shield _himself_ from it. But there was no trace of disgust on her face as she began to unwind the bandages, which covered the better part of his torso and thighs.

She had a damp cloth she used to wipe the cuts on his chest and stomach. It brought a cleansing chill with it, and as layer after layer of cloth was rolled away, Theon felt himself able to _breathe_ again. Only to have his breath stop in his throat as she began to unwind the fabric from his hips. He had to stop himself from stopping her, gripping the bed sheets instead.

He whimpered as he was laid bare. His body, it was so…

A gentle hand combed through his hair. “Shh,” she said. “Don’t look. It’s fine.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not.” A tear broke from his tightly closed eyes. “How can you say that?”

“Theon.” Her hands were on his face, tilting his head up. “Look at me. Not there. Me.”

He did. The moment he did, her blue eyes held him in place.

“I’m going to be as quick as I can,” she said. “I’m going to clean the wound, then let you cover it with your nightshirt. And when you’re done with the privy, I’m going to bandage you back up. Is that alright?”

He nodded.

“Good, and the whole time, I want you to watch me, alright? Not my hands, not what I’m doing with the bandages, but my face. Understand?”

Again, he nodded.

She slid the cloth between his legs, trying to be gentle, but it still hurt. Theon winced, and she braced her free hand against his face. “Shh,” she said. “Watch my face. I’m here. I’m here, Theon, and I’m not leaving you.”


	10. 3.3: A Beta's Worth

For several days that was their routine. Sansa changed his bandages. Jon brought food. Robb kept vigil by his bedside.

After about a week of this, Arya came again, holding a bundle tucked under her arm. “I’m supposed to get you out of bed,” she stated, leaning against the door. “The chambermaids need to change your sheets.”

Theon let her help him out of bed. Actually, Arya _let_ him let her. She let him sit up on his own, pull back the covers, and swing his legs over the side of the mattress. She only intervened when he had trouble standing.

“I brought you some clothes.” She set the bundle on the bed and began unfolding it. “Thought you might be more comfortable that way.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you need help dressing or should I…?”

He reached for the breeches. The sight of his hand, missing half its fingers, made him stop. “I…may need help with these.”

Luckily, his bandages acted as smallclothes, and he did not have to look away in shame when he hiked up his nightshirt so that she could help him into the breeches, one leg at a time. She also helped him with the laces. And getting the nightshirt over his head, as his arms proved too stiff for the task.

He heard her swallow as his back was exposed.

He hurried to face her. His bare chest was not much of a sight either, but it was better than his back. And when he turned, she had an odd look on her face. Grim and angry. “Robb killed him, you know.”

Theon grabbed the clean shirt she’d brought and bunched it up to cover the worst of his scars. He’d spent so much time trying not to think of Ramsay. “He…did?”

“I wasn’t there, but I saw what they dragged out of the Dreadfort. You couldn’t even tell what had been done by Robb and what had been done by Grey Wind.” She turned and spat on the floor. “His head was cut off and mounted on a pike, though there wasn’t much of his face left. Flies are fucking his skull on the battlements of the Dreadfort as we speak.”

Theon didn’t know how to feel about that. Glad, he supposed. Glad that Ramsay was gone. Glad that he hadn’t been there to see it.

Arya took the shirt out of his hand. “Here, let me help you with that.”

The fabric was light and loose. Linen. Very nice, and like a whisper against his skin.

Arya smoothed it out on his shoulders. Arya had never been a fussy person, and the gesture surprised him. “Like it? Robb picked it out.”

“It’s…I hope I don’t bleed on it.”

“It’s fine. You look great.” She plucked a loose thread from the collar. “Sansa did a good job with your hair yesterday. I’m glad they didn’t ask _me_ to do that.”

Theon’s hand went subconsciously to his hair, but Arya grabbed his hand. “We need to be out of the room long enough to give the chambermaids some time to work,” she stated. “If you’re up for it, we’ll just take a short walk.”

“That sounds wonderful.” And it did. He knees knocked, but he’d been bedridden for so long, and before that… He wanted to walk.

With him leaning on her shoulder, they hobbled from the room like some impossibly awkward four-legged beast.

His legs ached. He felt like a child learning to walk again. Arya was surprisingly patient with him. She pulled him up when he stumbled and put a hand on his back to steady him. The fastidiousness, the caring—perhaps Arya was coming into her protective Alpha instincts after all, despite her own feelings on the matter.

They made their way slowly down the hall. At the end, Theon was breathing heavily. “Do you need to rest?” Arya asked. “Father’s solar is just over here. You can sit down in there.”

Theon nodded gratefully and leaned against the wall as she opened the door, popped her head in, and came back over with a strange smirk on her face. Theon didn’t really note it as suspicious until he was halfway through the door and faced with a room full of Starks: Robb, Jon, Sansa, even Bran and Rickon. All smiling like they’d been waiting here for him.

Theon froze.

“Presenting,” Arya said with much bravado, “Lord Theon of House Greyjoy.”

She tried to pull him into the room, but he resisted. “What…what is this?”

“It’s your presentation party.”

“What?” He pulled back from her, though he obviously had no strength. “No, I can’t. I can’t!”

Sansa bolted from her seat, her hands clenched at her sides. “I told you this would only upset him, Arya!”

Robb jumped up from his seat and rushed to take Theon’s arm. “Shh, shh.” He pulled Theon in for a hug, and suddenly everything felt more safe. Made more sense. “It’s alright. You don’t have to do this. I’ll take you back to your room. We only wanted to show you how glad we all are to have you back with us.”

Theon looked over Robb’s shoulder at the Starks. They’re arranged their seats around a table, a facsimile of a feast with plates of food laid out. They were all dressed in their fine clothes as well, and Theon remembered how Arya had said that Robb had specifically picked the clothes he was wearing now. They’d planned this. For him.

“P…perhaps I could sit down to eat?” he suggested.

Robb whispered into his ear. “You don’t have to. We understand.”

“I…I want to.” He nodded, as if reaffirming his own decision. “I want to.”

“Alright.” Robb pulled back, but not too far. “Alright.”

He and Arya helped Theon into his seat at the head of the table, and the other Starks settled back into their seats. Sansa, to his left, leaned forward and clasped his forearm. “Are you really alright, Theon?”

“We wanted to do something for you,” Arya said, seated to Sansa’s left. “But we figured the dining hall might be a bit much for you so soon.”

Sansa shot her a glare.

“I meant the _stairs_ might be difficult,” Arya huffed.

“Thank you, Arya,” Theon said before Sansa could scold her again. “Thank you, everyone. I really appreciate this.” Plate in hand, he reached for the ham, and immediately, six Starks were on their feet rushing to help him.

“I’ll cut you a slice of that,” Robb said.

“And I’ll get you some grapes. We have fresh grapes,” Jon said.

“And cheese. Would you like some cheese?” Sansa said.

“Bread and butter,” Arya said.

“We’ve got plenty of potatoes,” Bran said.

“And honey cakes,” Rickon said. “You should start with those, even though they’re for dessert.”

“You can start with whatever you want,” Robb said, setting the laden plate in front of Theon.

“Thank you,” Theon said again. It really was an impressive spread, and he’d steadily been building up his appetite since he’d started eating again. Now he didn’t even need to feign enthusiasm as he picked up his knife.

Satisfied, the Starks sat and began helping themselves.

Theon watched them as he ate. He didn’t understand why it was so important to them that he feel wanted. Were they trying to spare his feelings? Slowly, he began to wonder if what Robb had told him was maybe the truth. Maybe…they _were_ just glad to have him back.

It scared him. Made him feel like he was adrift at sea without a lifeline. From the moment he’d realized he was a Beta, his life had been built on one solid foundation: _Your worth is never guaranteed in this world_. Ever since he was a child, he’d built his own worth, worked hard for it, for what little there was. Not the worth of an Alpha or an Omega, but a Beta’s worth.

But now he seemed to have something else. Not something that was _worked for_ , necessarily, but earned all the same. A…a Theon’s worth.

 

* * *

 

After the “feast,” Robb helped him back to his room. The sheets really had been changed, and the promise of a clean bed and a full stomach had Theon nearly nodding off before his head had even touched the pillows. Robb ended up having to slide him onto the mattress and pull the sheets up over him—so warm.

“Good night.” Robb knelt and kissed his forehead.

Theon fought against sleep to grab for Robb’s hand. “Could you…stay? For a bit?”

“Of course.”

He sat on the bed and Theon shook his head. “No…here. With me.” He patted the empty space next to him.

Robb hesitated for a moment. A moment that soured the warm food in Theon’s stomach.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to—”

“ _I_ want to.”

Robb nodded. He turned only to kick off his boots, then he joined Theon under the covers. As soon as Theon felt the body next to his, he leaned into it. Robb went rigid for just a second, then put his hands on Theon’s hips and guided his body against him, chest to back. “Is this alright?”

“Yes.” He took Robb’s hands and pulled them around to his stomach. “There. Now we can pretend I’m your Omega bondmate and I’m carrying your heir.”

“Theon, you know I don’t care that—”

He put his hands over top of Robb’s. “Can you just pretend with me?”

Robb sighed and laid his forehead against the back of Theon’s head. “We don’t need to pretend. You _are_ my bondmate, Theon.”

“But—”

“I don’t care if we’re not allowed to marry, if we never have children.” His breath was gentle against the nape of Theon’s neck. “You’re my bondmate. I’ve known it for a long time now, and I wish I’d told you sooner.”

Theon closed his eyes. “But you’re the heir of House Stark, the lead Alpha. You need to carry on your family’s line.”

“Then maybe we’ll find someone to help us.” His arms tightened around Theon’s middle, pulled him closer. “An Omega who understands that _you’re_ my first.” Lips brushed the back of his neck. “Always, always.”

“I still don’t understand why you would even want me.”

“If you have to ask why, you haven’t been paying attention.” Another kiss, this time where his jaw met his neck. “Anyway, all you have to understand is that I _do_ want you.”

Theon breathed in deeply through his nose. Otherwise his lungs and heart were going to burst. “I love you, Robb. I wish I could be so much more for you.”

“Hush. You’re enough, Theon.” Their lips finally met, and it was awkward, with Robb having to half-sit to reach the right angle, but at the same time it was perfect. Theon never imagined that anything in his life would ever be so perfect. Not when he was a child, and not after what Ramsay had done to him. But this…it was. “You’re enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos. Thank you for joining me on this weird little journey. Your support is a terrible enabler for my weird side. 
> 
> <3 VagrantWriter

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and concrit are always welcome.


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